


Little Things

by sansos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, One Shot, Pro Volleyball Player Ushijima Wakatoshi, Reader-Insert, gn!reader because I think I only use you as the pronoun, i think, this is just pure fluff honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansos/pseuds/sansos
Summary: On the way home from the airport, Ushijima recounts on the little things he’s noticed about you.Ushijima x gn!reader
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi & Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 137





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on an Oikawa fic but then this idea popped up in my mind and I just _had_ to write it 
> 
> Also: Thank you so much for 1000 hits on [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121867)!  
> This work also revolves around the idea of "home", but in a different context :)

Ushijima glanced down at his phone with a frown. In spite of the time difference between Italy and Japan, it wasn’t the drowsiness that had elucidated such an expression from the tall man.

No, rather it was that you had sent him a picture of the kiwis you saw at the grocery market.

You didn’t like kiwis, and you always made a point to tell Ushijima how much you abhorred the fruit whenever you saw it. You’d pull and grab at whatever he was wearing to get his attention, and then go off on how _bizarre_ you found the fruit while eliciting annoyed glares from nearby shoppers. And yet in spite of how loud your reaction to the fruit always was, it’s never escaped his notice how _quiet_ you actually were when you first spot it. The way your brows furrowed just for a fraction of a second, and how your hand —your right, for the matter— would shoot up to massage your jaw as if nursing an ache. It was his early warning system: a notice to slow down his pace and listen; to prepare himself for the wild and long-winded journey you never failed to bring him on. 

Leaving the screen lit and chat opened, he placed his phone on the seat beside him and looked out the taxi window, patiently awaiting your response. He knew you typed fast —he’s seen your fingers dance across the keyboard so fast and with such precision that it seemed as if the words appeared on the screen on its own. You would follow up your photo with your message soon.

You worked hard —maybe sometimes a little too hard. He’d find you fast asleep at the dinner table from time to time when he went on his morning runs —your notes and reports sprawled out across the surface while you and your laptop fell level after level into deep slumber.

Ushijima always wondered if you were aware of it, but the way you smashed on your keys to wake up your computer when he gently woke you up in those quiet mornings was so methodical that he had it down to a very science. Three consecutive hits of the space bar at exactly 120 bpm —your first hit being the loudest and most forceful, as if it was meant to wake _you_ up instead.

The quiet mornings where it was just the two of you in the apartment —the time shared so exclusively such that not even the morning sun had any place in it.

His olive eyes gazed mindlessly out the window as he watched the scenery change from the forest of luscious green by the airport to the concrete jungle he had come to call home.

_Home._

Home smelled like the laundry powder that the two of you used —the one that you had insisted on buying because it smelled like a “field of flowers under the sun” even though it was more expensive. Home was where he would always stroll past the bathroom to find you staring intensely at the instructions printed on the bottom corner of the box when you loaded the laundry machine every other day before you headed for work. Your frown would always deepen as your eyes skimmed past each line, your elbows resting against the edge of the machine while the basket of dirty clothes waited beside your shins on your right.

He felt a vibration by his thigh and looked down to the seat beside him. His phone had awakened from its momentary sleep by the incoming message from you, just like how you always woke up from your naps, albeit grudgingly, when he nudged you on the shoulder. He locked his phone and stepped out of the taxi, bowing at the driver in thanks as he walked through the lobby and into the elevators. He would reply to your message in person, he decided.

He rang the doorbell with his right hand while his left sat comfortably in his pocket. As he stood waiting in front of the door of your shared apartment, a faint smile graced upon his usually stoic face when he heard the sound of feet shuffling loudly from the other side.

You opened the door, your eyes widened and mouth slightly ajar as recognition settled on your features. Ushijima gave a curt nod and found his neck instantaneously wrapped between your arms as you flung your entire body upwards into his in an anxious embrace —just like how you always did when he found his way back home.

“I missed you,” you whispered into his neck as you held on tightly to his shoulders —as if loosening your grip would mean losing him forever. Ushijima chuckled and patted you on the back with his right hand. “I was only gone for a week,” he replied as you released your hold on him to steady yourself back onto your own feet.

“Have you eaten yet? I’ll make you something,” you sniffed, grabbing onto the handle of his luggage and wheeling it into your flat, quickly wiping the stray tear that had trickled down amidst your reunion. “You can go take a shower while you wait.”

Ushijima nodded as he stared at your form retreating into your shared bedroom with his suitcase, his dominant hand still tucked in his coat pocket.

No matter the test of time, you always welcomed him back in the exact same way. It was the way your eyes would shift from utter confusion to immediate longing; the way you always jumped into his arms with a shaky breath; the way you pressed your entire being against his as if to convey every ounce of love you had for him. It was the way you showed with every fibre of your being how absolutely _happy_ you were that he was finally home.

_Home._

He smiled again, his left hand tracing the edge of the lid of the velvet box snuggly resting in his coat pocket as he stepped into the apartment.

 _It was the little things you did that made it feel like he was truly home_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I don't like kiwis..
> 
> Feel free to message me on Tumblr @ [inarizakikoukou](https://inarizakikoukou.tumblr.com/ask) or leave a comment underneath!


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